


Sword of Honor

by Longpig



Category: Forever (TV), Star Trek
Genre: Bromance, Chocolate Box Exchange, Cosplay, Everyone is adorable, Gen, Henry is adorable, Hero Worship, Klingons, Lucas is adorable, Male Bonding, Murder, Star Trek References, batleth doesnt look like a real word anymore, but just a little bit, casefic, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-06
Updated: 2017-02-06
Packaged: 2018-09-22 09:30:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9601796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Longpig/pseuds/Longpig
Summary: Lucas and Henry embark upon a unique investigation...





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [falsteloj](https://archiveofourown.org/users/falsteloj/gifts).



It’s safe to say I pretty much have the best job on the planet. I guess I’d consider myself to be an understudy to the master, the true artiste in the medium of Death: Doctor Henry Morgan. But even with the bar set that high, I can tell this is gonna be a good one. I mean, how often do you find a dead Klingon lying in an alley behind the Hilton? I’m the camera man today, so I’m hovering around snapping pics of the fallen warrior, getting all the good angles. Gotta put those art school years to good use, right?

 

“I guess it was a good day to die.” I can’t help it, it’s my nature: I quip. I’m a quipper.

 

“Lucas, please.” Doc is all business, same as, crouching down over the body with that look he gets. The stiff -- sorry,  _ decedent _ , is lying on his stomach, head turned to the side, with a couple of nasty gashes in his back.

 

“Sorry doc. But you gotta admit this is way cooler than just another cardiac arrest. We have here a citizen of the glorious Klingon Empire! I gotta say, it’s a damn impressive costume. Seriously, we are talking studio quality. Prosthetics too.”

 

“I can’t say as I’m familiar with that particular dynasty,” he says, standing and dusting his knees off. I’m not sure if that’s sarcasm or genuine ignorance, tbh. Oh well. I shrug. I’m looking over at Hanson and Martinez (or as I like to call her, the hot one) for backup, but nada. “Cause of death would appear to be blood loss due to multiple stab wounds. Do we know who this… gentleman... is?”

 

Hanson flips through a little notebook -- very old-school. “Unis found a wallet near the body. Driver’s license says Carl Davidson, but we won’t know if that’s really him until you take off his, uh, face.”

 

“Coolest. Case. Ever.” I could go on, but I’m getting that Shut Up Lucas look again from Henry. I can’t believe nobody’s as excited about this as I am. Although if Henry doesn’t grok Indiana Jones, maybe expecting him to be a Trekkie is a stretch.

 

Martinez glances at the corpse. “The hotel is hosting a convention this weekend. Hence the colourful getup.” 

 

“Detective Hanson, you said his wallet was found; was anything taken?” 

 

“If he had any cash, it’s gone. Could be a mugging.” 

 

Oh ho, I don’t think so; time for Detective Lucas to shine. “No way… check out what he’s got around his neck.” Carefully, carefully, I use my pen to pull the lanyard out so they can see it. “VIP pass. A robber could’ve scalped this for mucho dinero. And, he’s still got his  _ dk’ tahg. _ ” Everyone looks confused. I love it when I know something they don’t. “It’s a ceremonial dagger.” I point out the knife on his belt, still sheathed. “Those ain’t cheap either. And of course, stealing it would be a grave insult to his honour.”

 

“Well spotted, Lucas!” Ahhh, my three favourite words. After all, I’m just a kouhai… standing in front of a senpai… asking him to notice me… “Additionally, I would find it unlikely that a mugger would take his wallet, and then stab him twice in the back.” He frowns, still managing to look like a GQ cover. HOW?! “There’s something we are missing.”

 

“Why would he have been out in the alley?” Dectective Martinez asks. I think it’s a rhetorical question, but I’m a helpful guy, so I answer anyway.

 

“Call of nature?” There’s an emergency exit to the alley, so it’s possible. “Maybe there was a lineup for the facilities.” She just snorts. Ow, my pride!

 

“When is there ever a line for the  _ men’s _ room?”

 

“Clearly you’ve never been to a Star Trek con.” She rolls her eyes, but I see Hanson stifling a snicker; at least someone’s on my side! Just then, the vic starts beeping. It takes me half a second, but I get there: “It’s his phone!” Henry reaches a gloved hand into the guy’s pocket and pulls out a really shiny new iPhone. 

 

Definitely not a robbery. 

 

Detective Martinez takes it from him and picks up the call. Someone’s in for a surprise. “Hello? … I’m sorry, Carl can’t come to the phone right now…” I can make out a raised voice on the other end, and her eyebrows go wayyy up.

 

“I’m gonna guess girlfriend,” I mutter as I snap the shutter again.

 

“Actually, this is Detective Martinez with the NYPD.” Definitely girlfriend. “I’m sorry, could we discuss this in person? Are you at the convention?” She walks off, just out of earshot, so I turn back to the doc.

 

“So what are we doing now?” 

 

“Back to the morgue, Lucas. I need to get a better look at those wounds.” 

 

“Alriiiight! To the Deathmobile!” A withering look. Whoops. “... is what I would say if it wasn’t completely inappropriate. And also if we had one.”

 

*****

 

We’re back at the morgue -- my cold, fluorescent-lit home away from home. We’ve mostly finished the external exam (it’s definitely Davidson, btw), but Doc is still puzzling over the cuts on the guy’s back. I’m just sitting back, preparing the tissue collection jars and watching the maestro at work. Good times.

 

“It simply doesn’t make sense. The two wounds are approximately nine inches apart, and perfectly aligned, even sharing the same downward angle of penetration. But this blow,” he indicated the upper one, “would have incapacitated him instantly, whereas the other is much shallower, almost  _ tentative. _ ” He paces around the table to look at it from another angle. So intense. I kind of wonder if he would talk just as much even if I wasn’t here. “If the fatal blow came first, why would the killer stab him again? And why would he take the time to line up the second incision so precisely? And if the more superficial one started the attack, why wouldn’t he have turned and tried to defend himself?” Henry bends over the corpse with his magnifying glass, just inches away from the wounds. 

 

Something’s ringing a bell here...If I could just -- oh my god. That’s it! The doc must have some sort of Spidey sense going on, because he looks up from the body and right at me. His stare is kind of like a big ol’ set of high beams, and I’m Mr. Deer standing in the middle of the road.

 

“What is it, Lucas?”

 

“I know what killed him.” It comes out sounding a little stunned, because well, it’s pretty stunning when I figure something out before Henry. “It’s a  _ bat’leth _ .”

 

“A  _ what?” _

 

“It’s a, a, a sort of a sword? It’s about so long and it has these two prong things, like…” I try to mime it but that isn’t working out so hot, so I peel off my gloves and dive for my phone for a quick GIS. “Like this!” He comes around the table to check it out, and I wish I had a second phone to get a picture of the look on his face.

 

“Good lord. Do people actually fight with these things?”

 

“Well, no, not really.”  I shrug. “They’re props. Usually. But our guy must have a pretty hard core replica if it could do this. Special order, custom job kind of thing.” The wheels are turning again. “Like the kind of thing you could track him down with!” Oh man, who knew all those hours on the internet would pay off like this? “There was a thread on reddit a couple years ago of people complaining that most replica _ bat’leths _ don’t have the proper curve… To make those marks it would have to, and there’s only one site you could have got one that I know of, and that was a pretty limited edition.” His face lights up, like  _ whoah. _

 

“Lucas, you’re a genius.”

 

“Wh- really?” I stammer. Dammit, why can’t I ever be cool about these things?! “I mean, yes.”

 

“Well, you have your moments.” He gives me that crooked grin that I’m sure has killed many ladies, but then looks a little puzzled, maybe worried? “Why do you always seem so surprised when I pay you a compliment?” Oh god.    
  
“Well, I just wanna be your Commander Riker, but sometimes I feel like you think of me more like a Reginald Barclay.” Blank look. “You know, Number One?” Oh god, OH GOD what are these words coming out of my mouth?! “Uh, never mind. Should I call Detective Martinez?” He stares at me for another half a beat, then nods as he turns back to the corpse. Thank goodness. Not your smoothest, Lucas.

 

“Yes… I think you can explain this… ‘bat-leth’ far better than I.” 

 

I manage to get a hold of her and pass on the 411, then text her the image and a link to the website. Aside from that tiny, completely mortifying faux-pas, I feel like a real member of the team today, not just a second banana. It’s great! I don’t even get snark when I sign off the call with a hearty  _ Qapla’. _

 

“They’re going to contact the seller and try and match up purchases against the list of con attendees,” I report back. 

 

“Good, good…” He’s digging around in the deeper laceration with a pair of forceps, intent on his work. “I may have found another clue.” Carefully, he withdraws a small, bloody sliver of metal. “It appears our killer struck Mr. Davidson with such force that the tip of his weapon snapped off.” Man.  _ Bat’leth _ -ed in the back. So much for the Sword of Honor. I guess they just don’t make Klingons like they used to.

 

“You know… It’s gonna take them a while to get in touch with that web store and go through all the names…” I’m thinking out loud here, but I feel like he’s picking up what I’m putting down.

 

“Lucas, are you suggesting we deviate from traditional investigative protocol?” He smiles. I have a co-conspirator!

 

“Oh no, I would never!” I put my hands up in mock denial. “But if we were to go to the convention, maybe we would just happen to spot --”

 

“-- the man with the broken  _ bat’leth. _ ”

 

*****

 

And that’s how I ended up at a Star Trek convention with Dr. Henry Morgan. I even managed to convince him to wear a medical blue tunic from the original series (I did a group costume thing with a couple of guys for Hallowe’en last year) so that we’d blend in. I took the gold one, because hell if I’m gonna be the redshirt on this mission.

 

“I cannot believe I agreed to this … getup.” I gotta admit it is pretty strange to see him in anything less than a suit and tie accessorized with a fashionable scarf. He tugs at the hem uncomfortably.

 

“Relax, we’re fine… Look around!” The quality of cosplay here is top notch. There’s loads of Starfleet uniforms representing every series, and Romulans and Klingons everywhere. I see a really great Morn, and that’s not easy to pull off. Oh and there’s a couple dressed up as Data and Geordi, carrying a little stuffed Spot -- but I gotta stay focused.

 

“If you say so,” he grumbles. “I’m a doctor, not a pantomime actor.” 

 

I open my mouth to say something but -- “... you know what, that’s perfect. Let’s go find a bad guy.” Wish I had a pair of sunglasses. 

 

“Yes, let’s.” Doc squares his shoulders like he’s about to go off into battle or something.  “Something tells me this will be no mean feat.” He eyes the sea of Trekkies warily. “Are all of these people truly here to pay tribute to a television programme?”

 

“Oh man. It’s not just any TV show! It’s -- first of all, how have you never even  _ heard _ about Star Trek?” I shake my head. First Indiana Jones, and now this. “It’s  more than just a TV show, or a movie; it’s a thirty year  _ legacy _ , man! It’s a vision of a future where humanity decided to be better. And that… gives people hope.” I kind of surprise myself with that one -- deep thoughts. He seems like he’s mulling it over too.

 

“Hmm. Fascinating.” 

 

Maybe I could invite him over for a marathon sometime. He probably doesn’t even have Netflix. Or a TV. I can’t really imagine him kicking back in front of a widescreen plasma… Wait, sidetracked again. “So, I thought we could go around and ask to take pictures with any Klingons we see. It’s a good way to get up close to people without seeming, uh, unnecessarily creepy,” I explain.

 

It turns out that this is not only a totally bangin’ idea (if I do say so myself), but it’s also pretty fun! I’m the camera guy again, since the doc is hopeless with touchscreens. But he’s actually getting into it! By the third or so photo op he’s mugging for the camera, and posing in ‘fight’ scenes with the cosplayers.

 

“I’m beginning to see the appeal of this brand of escapism!” he admits after ‘dying’ at the hands of Lursa and B’Etor. “It’s quite exhilarating… but I don’t think either of those ladies were our suspect.”

“Uh, no… but if I post this on the con’s Facebook later they might give me their numbers.” I confess. They were smokin’. He does that downward-chin-tilt-frown thing at me, but I can tell it’s good natured. What is this? Are we bonding? This might just be the best day ever. “Oh but hey, check that dude out.” I nod over at a Klingon listlessly flipping through a box of back issues at one of the comics tables, leaning on a  _ bat’leth. _

 

“I may not be an expert, Lucas, but that does appear to be a properly curved  _ bat’leth. _ ”

 

“Why yes it does…” And before I can say anything else, he’s striding over there with that million dollar smile plastered on his face. Uh, careful Doc, just don’t get stabbed please…

 

“Excuse me sir, your uniform is quite impressive! I was wondering if I might trouble you for a photograph?” The guy looks a bit caught off guard, but he nods.

 

“Uh thanks. Sure, I guess.” He seems pretty distracted actually. Like maybe he’s got a lot on his mind. Murdering a fellow warrior, for instance.

 

“Excellent!” Henry grins at me. “Lucas, if you would do the honors?”

 

“Oh, right. Scooch in now!” I wave my camera-free hand around to get them closer; I can see the doc is itching to check out that blade. “Alright! Everybody say ‘Kahless!’” One tap and that’s it, we’re done. I’m like ninety percent sure this is the guy. It’s pretty exciting, but I also don’t want to get stabbed, so I’m eager to back us off a bit. “Thanks man!” The guy just nods again and turns back to the comics, so I grab Henry and pull him into the next booth down.

 

“Lucas!” he exclaims in an excited whisper. “That was our killer! We can’t let him get away!” He turns to head after the guy but I am not about to let that happen.

 

“Whoah whoah there!  _ We _ are gonna call the real cops, the ones with guns, to come get him. I don’t know about you, but I prefer my body to remain in its mint, un-stabbed condition.” I’m already texting Detective Martinez.  _ found killer. @con w/ Henry, pls hurry. _ I attach the picture of Doc and our Klingon friend, then I add a few scared-face emojis for good measure. It only takes a few seconds before I get a reply:  _ En route to hotel now. STAY PUT!!! _ “They’re on their way.”

 

Henry gives me that earnest look I’ve seen him use on Martinez. “We must at least keep an eye on him, to make sure he doesn’t elude them before they even arrive. What do you say, partner?” How can I say no to that?

 

“Well, when you put it that way…” 

 

We spend the next half hour or so tailing our bad guy. I’m using all the covert surveillance techniques I learned from watching  _ Person of Interest _ , but to be fair, dude doesn’t look like he’s paying real close attention to his surroundings anyway. Still, when I see the crowd around us ripple to let Martinez and her badge come through, I feel a lot better about life. Detective Hanson is trailing behind her with a handful of uniformed officers.

 

“Eli Stoller!” she barks as she beelines for the guy. He looks up, blinks, and tenses up - for a split second I think he’s gonna make a break for it, but the he just sort of slumps his shoulders and… starts crying? 

 

“Aw jeez,” I mutter. It’s kind of mortifying. I’d almost feel bad for him, if it weren’t for the whole murder thing.

 

“You’re under arrest, for the murder of Carl Davidson,” Martinez intones as she ratchets the cuffs around the sobbing Klingon’s wrists. “Nice outfits, guys,” she shoots back over her shoulder at us, before she marches him off while reciting his rights. The other officers follow her out, one of them gingerly carrying the  _ bat’leth _ , leaving Hanson to shoo off the gawkers.

 

“So how’d you find him?” he asks us, once things have settled down. “We got a name, but we only had his regular face to go by. We’d’ve had a hell of a time picking him out here.” 

 

“It turns out that Mr. Stoller damaged his weapon when he attacked his victim,” Henry explains excitedly. “Since it was so unique, once we found the sword with matching breakage, it was virtually impossible the killer could be anyone else. A bit of good old fashioned detective work, eh Lucas?” 

 

“Yup, that’s us; Sherlock and Watson... Sam and Dean… Frank and Joe-- I’ll stop now.” I cut myself off before Hanson gets any more confused.

 

“Well that’s great,” he says dryly. “We did a little detective work of our own. So Stoller here is actually the vic’s girlfriend’s ex. The three of them were in this same ‘club’ or whatever you call it, where they dress up like these space guys.”

 

“They usually refer to it as a ship,” I chime in helpfully, but he doesn’t seem interested. His loss.

 

“Whatever. Anyway, she says there were some pretty hard feelings about the situation, so we figure they had it out last night; Davidson thought they were done, turned around to leave, and buddy here lost it and smacked him one from behind.”

 

“So much for his Klingon honor!” Henry quips, with a grin to me that cancels out all of Hanson’s Negative Nancy-ness.

 

“I guess. Good work on the murder weapon, Doc. We’d have had a hard time without that one.”

 

“Actually, it’s Lucas you ought to thank.” Henry claps me on the shoulder in a tender, yet manly way, and Hanson looks impressed at  _ me,  _ for once. “We couldn’t have solved the case without my Number One assistant Medical Examiner.” He remembered! Oh Captain, my Captain! 

 

Totally the best day ever.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


\---

 

“

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Happy Chocobos! Lucas is the best; I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it.


End file.
